to the screeching
laughing of the others scoring her
mind – claws
of stray slit eyed cats – ferociously feral,
of struggled sacred, holy, peace.
alone waiting for the chime of the doorbell just
hall at the front door – willing its
pure peal –
in and out – Out and in – calming the cat calls –
the tumbled trouble times until slowly the vast blank
of mind returns stretching as pale wheat waving –
waits for the chime of the bell and for him to take her
this silent screaming heinous home.
alone through the afternoon –
falls she rises and looks over the field to the
road and a
pinprick of light widening curving ever closer
to her – and
when, and only when it is but a single curve away
smoothes the bedcovers and runs to the door on tiptoed bare-feet.
She flings open the door - is already outside running past him
in hand - a sigh on her opened lips – door slapping behind her –
Ready – oh
so very ready to ingest whatever he offers in place of all she has silently
swallowed for far far too long. And when they are moving far out beyond the
fields, the house a fading memory already erasing itself –
She leans out
the open window fingers stretched to catch handfuls of soft cool breeze –
shakes her hair free and howls. One single joyful howl – laughing at the silver
moon – Full, fresh and sumptuously round in this sanctified sky flung with
shooting stars of far better tomorrows.